


I Would Have Waited Forever

by werewolfsaz



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfsaz/pseuds/werewolfsaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now! It was happening now!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Would Have Waited Forever

**Author's Note:**

> My very first Merthur fic. And I'm not sure why this is my first because I have loved them from the beginning but hey ho.  
> Comments are my reason for writing so please feel free to leave some :)  
> Enjoy

The low vibration in his bones woke Merlin. He struggled to sit up, wincing as his joints creaked alarming. Growing old was not a process he was enjoying. But the pain was pushed from his mind as that low hum grew stronger, rumbling through his entire body, rattling his teeth, shaking the last of sleep from his brain.  
Now! It was happening now!

Hurriedly throwing on some clothes the old wizard rushed (as fast as he could) out of his small house, racing down to the lake. The sky was overcast, slate grey clouds hiding any indication of sunlight. The air was heavy and oddly still, as if Nature herself was holding her breath. Thick fog rolled over the glassy surface of the water, swallowing the distant banks, shrouding the island.

Merlin strained his eyes, scanning the fog for some clue, a hint of a shape in the pearly mist. The vibrations in his bones rose higher, spiraling up and up to fever pitch, until his teeth were in very real danger of falling out. Then it stopped, leaving him shaken and off kilter. He scanned the fog again, a frown replacing the hope on his face. Could he have gotten it wrong? Had the boat appeared on a differnt side of the lake? Had it even been a warning that it was happening? 

With a sigh the sorcerer dropped to the dew damp grass, gazing out over the water. So many times he had been convinced that this was it, this would be the day he had been told of. The wars, the cruelties, the injustices he saw every day it seemed, surely they were enough to fulfil the prophecy? But every time he had been sorely disappointed. And it looked like this was just one more time. Thinking that a cup of camomile tea might ease his aching joints (and hurting heart) the old man stood and turned back to his small house. That's when he heard it.

He had heard water lap against many things, shores, stones, metal and flesh. But this noise, this was the sound of water brushing against wood, a deep, hollow thud that made Merlin's heart beat faster. Turning slowly, trying not to wrench his already tender body, the wizard faced the water and felt a gasp leave him. There, emerging from the edding fog like a ghostly swan, was a small boat. He knew those lines, the construction, had seen it in countless dreams that ended in tears.

"Arthur," he whispered. As if speaking his name broke a spell, sunlight burst through the clouds, burning away the clinging tendrils of fog, revealing a sight so deeply longed for. The small boat floated gently forward, bumping to a halt against the shore. Merlin walked forward as if in a trance, down to the edge of the lake, towards his Destiny. 

Laid in the bottom of the boat, as young and strong as he had been when he died, was Athur Pendragon. The sun glittered in his golden hair, washing his face with warm light, chasing away the cold paleness of death. His eyes remained closed however. Merlin's knees gave out, dropping him down against the ancient wood, as a noise suspiciously like a sob broke from him.  
"Arthur, it's me, Merlin. I waited for you. I'm always waiting for you, you prat. Wake up now. Come on, you royal dollophead, open your eyes."

Arthur's eyes remained resolutely shut, dark gold lashes fanned softly over his cheeks. Fear gripped Merlin's insides as he touched his friend's cloaked shoulder, shaking him gently. Nothing.  
Shaking him harder, Merlin began to panic. This wasn't how it was supposed to be! Arthur was meant to be alive again! One wrinkled hand rose, lashing down to land a stinging slap on Arthur's pale cheek. Not even a twitch. Merlin scrambled with fabric, armour, chainmail, desperate to get to his King's throat and feel for a pulse. There had to be a pulse, something, please.

Nothing.

Had Fate returned Arthur to him only for it all to be a cruel hoax? Was it merely so Merlin could finally have closure? To finally bury his friend and let go of foolish hope? Tears prickled his eyes, blurring the sight of that strong, angular face, slightly crooked nose, soft looking spun gold hair. Bending his head, Merlin let misery swamp him. Arthur was truly gone, even the slender hope of his resurrection ripped away. Fighting back a choking sob, Merlin bent over the still figure, resting his forehead against the King's cool brow.  
"I would have waited until the world ended, until the seas swallowed the land and the mountains turned to dust. I would have waited forever for you, Arthur," he murmured. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to burn the lasting image of the golden King into his mind forever, Merlin pressed a gentle kiss to cold lips.

He poured centuries of distilled emotions, hopes and dreams into the kiss. He let the love he felt for his King flood to the surface and wash out of him into the gentle press of lips.  
"I love you, Arthur Pendragon, forever," he whispered against frozen lips.  
The feel of cold leather sliding across the back of his neck made the sorcerer jump, huge blue eyes flying open. Darker blue eyes gazed back, crinkling in the corners fondly. Merlin jerked back, gasping as his lips slid away from Arthur's. The King sat up, hand still firmly pressed to the back of Merlin's neck, holding him in place. They're eyes stayed locked, searching gazes sweeping every inch of dearly loved faces.

"Merlin," the blonde man murmured. "You haven't changed at all."  
The wizard's hands flew to his face and hair, discovering that all the long years had been swept away in one moment. Gone were the wrinkles, the long, white hair, the aching joints and niggling pains in his back. He was once again young and strong and supple.  
"I don't understand," Merlin muttered, staring at his strong, smooth hands. "It's been centuries since you... Since I looked like this."  
Arthur's laugh shivered through the air like a bell, sending delicious tingles up and down Merlin's spine. He gazed back at the King, hardly able to believe that he was truly alive.  
"Dragons and witches and ghosts and spells... All that makes perfect sense to you. But you suddenly being as you were when we were last together, that baffles you?"

Merlin felt a blush creep up his face, lowering his head so Arthur wouldn't see. The King's free hand came out and cupped his cheek, urging him to lift his eyes. Merlin looked into his friend's eyes, studied every line, every curve as if they held any clues. Then Arthur smiled and the sorcerer found the answer there. Love, as deep and as enduring as his own, glowing like embers in the ancient King's eyes.  
"I believe I have many years to catch up on. In more ways than one," Arthur said quietly, tugging Merlin closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.  
"Well, you know what you're like, Sire," Merlin grinned when he broke away. "You always did sleep through the important stuff."


End file.
